The Redwall Support Group
by renaissancegirl23
Summary: Members of Redwall are consumed by various addictions: ale, gambling, identity crises. Come to the meetings where they tell their stories.
1. Basil: hare or deer?

"My name is Basil…"the hare began.

"Hi, Basil," chorused the group around him.

"…and I suffer from an identity crisis. You see, all my life I've acted like a hare, pawfighting and stuffing my face and all that, but I've always wanted to be something more, you know?"

"We understand, Basil," said Abbot Mortimer reassuringly. "The first step is admitting you have this problem. Now, when did it begin?"

"Well," the fidgeted in his seat, fiddling with his whiskers, "when I was young, me mom and I lived in the forest all alone. She was a bit odd herself, always being in trances and making magical potions and that stuff. I'm sure that there were some green things she ate that weren't grass and herbs, if you catch my meaning, wot. Anyway, I always felt like I was letting her down or not being an ideal hare for her, since she always put me down and pushed me around. I always wanted to be something bigger, stronger, faster.

"One day, I was out around our little hole, and I saw a great herd of deer prancing through our forest. I'd never seen the great buggers before, and I was enchanted with 'em! I loved those big bucks, especially, with their spanning antlers and swift hooves, and I even got a little teary-eyed seeing the mothers lookin' after their fawns.

"Ever since that day, I knew that was what I wanted to be. I made little antlers out of sticks and tied 'em to me head and would prance around. 'Course, I only did it when no one was watching; they'd think me a fool. Me mom never saw me, but I never felt so run down any more. If she ever got on me nerves, I knew I could just go out and put on me little antlers and pretend I was the biggest animal in the forest and she couldn't do any-bally-thing she could do about it!"

"Basil, we feel for you that you had a rough childhood," commented the abbot. "Did this identity mix-up ever lead you to trouble?"

"Well, once. Though me mom was always rough on me, I knew not to fight back 'cause she was twice as big as me and I was a wee shrimp. Well, one time she says to me 'Basil, pick up your blo-,'" Basil looked around at the scattered females around him, "er, '_blinkin'_ things! I ain't yo' maid, understand?' And at that moment, I turned to her and said, 'No one talks to a stag like that, ye old hag!' Well, she got this startled look for just a couple of seconds, and then I turned tail and shot out of there and never went back."

"We're sorry for you, friend," stated Mortimer.

"Think you got problems, mate?" barked an otter. "My problem left me entire family t'starve!"

"Winifred, please, let him have his turn," ordered Mortimer. "We are not here to judge, only to help. If you feel as though your problem is more severe than another beasts', then you shouldn't be here."

"Now, Basil," said Mortimer, turning to the hare, "what happened after that?"

"Well, I wandered about for a while, fashioning a few more faux antlers and always lookin' for deer. I even started callin' meself 'Basil Stag', just to make me feel better. If I ran into vermin, I'd give 'em the wallop, donchaknow? Improved me fightin' styles and always kept in top form. I lived in solitude for a long time, and then ran into that Matthias chap a while back and, well, I guess you all here know _that_ story. Any hoo, though I've never showed anyone, I've still got one pair of me fake antlers in me bally possession. If just makes me feel empowered, you know? I never was one of those Salamadastron hares, with all their troops and traditions and wonderful stuff like that. So, I still secretly put me mind to being a tall, tawny, top-condition stag. It just makes me feel better, more confident."

"Well," said Abbot Mortimer, standing, "I think we've made some wonderful progress here today, Basil. Shall we give Basil the 'You'll Be Better' chant?"

All the attendees, some less willingly than others, stood from their chairs, clasped hands, and chanted:

"You might have a problem,

Always under the weather,

But with the help of your friends,

We promise you'll be better!"


	2. Ambrose: one soused hog

"My name is Ambrose…" the hedgehog began.

"Hi, Ambrose," muttered the Abbeybeasts.

"…and, though I 'ate to admit it, I 'ave a drinking problem."

"There is nothing to be ashamed of here, Ambrose," said Mortimer. "Everyone here has proved bravery just by coming. There is nothing that you can say here that will make us think badly of you."

"Right. Well, anyway, being the cellar keeper and all, it's kind of embarrassin' to 'ave this problem. I'm supposed to be a good, moral 'edge'og, but sometimes it's just too tough to do."

"Just start at the beginning," advised Mortimer. "When did this problem begin?"

"Well, I didn't start 'avin' this problem 'til I was older. My life was pretty awful; vermin 'ad burned me 'ome, the missus wouldn't leave me be, and I 'ad six young'uns to care for. Life was just so 'ard. One day, one of me fellow 'ogs I knew in Mossflower took me to another 'og's place, and 'e 'ad there some really different drink. 'E said to me, 'e says, 'Ambrose, just drink this, and it'll make you feel all better.' Well, at the end of me rope, I tried it, and by me spikes it tasted awful at first, but then it started clearing me 'ead, and I was laughin' and actin' quite foolish, but it was the first time in many a week I felt 'appy.

"Anyway, I 'eaded 'ome, and there was the missus, waiting at the door for me. She was probably quite angry at the time, but I didn't notice. She didn't look to me like she usually did: an ole run-down 'og wife in a tattered nightshirt with her spikes in curlers and marsh cream on her face. She looked like the pretty liddle 'og maid I married all dem seasons ago. I told 'er that, but instead of doin' what I thought she'd do—sweepin' me up in a big 'ug—she says to me, 'Ambrose, you've been into the ale at ole Spikkle's place, 'aven't you?' And so then she makes me sleep outside, which I didn't quite mind, since the outside looked so pretty."

"And what happened then, Ambrose?"

"Well, I slept nicely, snorin' like a den of badgers, but the next day, me 'ead was a-poundin' and me eyes were 'urtin' so bad from the sun. Also, me missus 'ad returned to 'er ole state, and the liddle 'ogs seemed ten-times more wild than ever. I 'ad to go back down to Spikkle's place every night to feel good, and, after about a month of this, the missus kicked me out of the 'ome. I felt so terrible, knowin' I 'and't 'elped 'er at all, and I'd been ignorin' the liddle'uns."

"And is that where you realized you had a drinking problem, Ambrose?" asked Mortimer.

"Well, pretty much. I wandered 'round and 'round Mossflower, until I came to the Abbey 'ere."

"Aye, I remember that, day," commented Jess, who sat nervously on her chair. "You were drunk as a skunk, too. We thought you were just delusional."

"Well, I was kinda 'alf and 'alf. I'd been drinkin' some grog I'd found, and I was getting' a little crazy from goin' days without eatin' or getting' out of the sun."

"And then we took you in," said the Abbot. "We haven't noticed any real problems from you so far in the seasons you've been 'ere."

"Well, that's 'cause I 'ide me indulgences. If I get drunk down in the cellar, I find a little alcove where I sleep it off. I always find meself needin' to 'taste test' every drink I make, and I become rather surly and possessive after the testin'. I guess I should say that I'm sorry about what 'appened at the party last month. It's just that after that much October Ale and elderberry wine, I can get a little confused about what I go around sayin' to beasts." At this, he blushed and looked up at Basil.

"Sorry 'bout the comment about the, uh, you know, cottontail, and uh…"

"No offense taken," Basil said rather stiffly.

"Anyway, I just want everybeast to know that I'll try to keep away from the stuff. I think I might need someone to watch me, a cellar keeper assistant or somethin' like that."

"We'll see what we can do, Ambrose," reassured Abbot Mortimer. "Now, everyone, I think that Ambrose has come to a good conclusion, and I hope you all can help him in whatever way you find best. Shall we give Ambrose the "We'll Help You Out" chant? And say it with feeling this time, everybeast!"

Again, the group stood and clasped paws and recited:

"You've realized your problem,

And we've all learned what it's about

If you ever need some guidance,

You can be sure we'll help you out."


	3. Jess: Acorn Addiction

"My name is Jess," the squirrel muttered.

"Hi, Jess," replied the others.

"My name is Jess, and I'm an addict. Yes, I'll admit it. It's just that, whenever I've been binging on the acorns, it feels so good. I get to forget about everything else: the husband, my bow needs a new string, the verge of battle. I just feel like escaping from it all and enjoy some good acorns."

"Jess," said Abbot Mortimer calmly, "when did you start having this problem?"

The squirrel fiddled with her jerkin. She was always fidgety and nervous. "I came from a rough brood. There were ten of us little 'uns, and Mama never really found time for any of us. I was third oldest, and there were so many to take care of. When I grew, I roved about with the SUOSA: Specialized Unit Of Squirrel Assassins. It was a pretty good life; there were good friends and fun times and I was killin' off vermin by the dozen. But, we eventually were attacked."

"By Cluny?" Mortimer asked.

"Exactly. Anyway, we disbanded after the ambush, and I was devastated. I paired up with a mate named Tobby, and we lived by ourselves for a long time. Even though I felt very grown up, I was still rather young, and it felt like my whole life was over without something to do. Tobby and I went back to my family's nest, to see if I could help. Well, we found the place decimated, burned, by Cluny, no doubt. It was then when I started my addiction with acorns. Every night I would stay out late, finding all the acorns I could, and I would stash them around the nest. Tobby kept telling me that I needed to quit, especially since we had a little daughter, Rosemary. Yeah, don't look so shocked; Sam's not my only offspring. Anyway, I would get all fidgety and paranoid, thinking someone would steal my acorns. I would bite my paw nails down to the quick, and they sometimes started to bleed. I gave up trying to start another SUOSA, and I couldn't see Tobby or Rosemary past my focus of acorns.

"One morning, after I'd been out at night, trading my knives to water voles for acorns, I came back and found my husband and daughter had deserted the nest. I was just heartbroken, and I felt as though I had hit rock bottom."

"We're all here for you, Jess," Cornflower said as she patted the squirrel's paw.

"Yeah, thanks. A few weeks later, I was a little cleared up, and I came here, to Redwall. I improved a lot, but I still occasionally go down to the larder and overindulge in acorns. It's tough, trying to fight off an addiction and raise a son at the same time. I think part of the reason why Sam doesn't talk is that he doesn't want to talk to me, afraid that he'll say something mean and I'll leave him. But, it's not that way. I want him to talk so bad, but it just depresses me when he doesn't talk, so I rely on my acorns to provide a false happiness."

"Jess, we will make you better." Abbot Mortimer folded his paws into his sleeves as he stood. "I think everyone here can help support Jess. After all, she is leader of the squirrels of Mossflower, and as a leader, she needs to be confident. Also, we need her to be a good mother for Sam, so that he eventually will talk."

Every beast stood and clasped hands, right after Cornflower and Winifred gave a now-teary Jess a hug. Then, they all chanted "For Your Life."

"You may not feel quite right,

Your days are filled with strife,

But with the help of friends,

You'll overcome for your life."


End file.
